


It's Getting Hot in Here

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Dick Pics, FC Barcelona, Football | Soccer, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentioned Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo, Real Madrid CF, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Um," Neymar says, plucking his shirt away from his chest. "Is it getting hot in here?" he asks, feeling a bit warm.</p><p>He hopes it's not just his body reacting to Cristiano's because that would be really awkward.</p><p>Cristiano nods though, mirroring Neymar's actions and drawing his shirt away from his chest. "Actually, now that you mention it," he says, looking up at the vents. "I think the air shut off." He pulls his shirt up to wipe his face where he's started to sweat. After a moment, he mutters, "Fuck it," and draws the entire thing over his head. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, looking at Neymar questioningly, combing his fingers through his hair to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Getting Hot in Here

**Author's Note:**

> So... Seems like some people really like this pairing? At least if the comments on my 5X Neymar story are anything to go by. Here's a little present for those people. And of course I couldn't avoid Leo entirely...

"Hold it!" Neymar shouts, trying to round a group of suits taking up the majority of the hallway. He watches thankfully as a hand slides out to stop the elevator from closing, allowing him time to maneuver through the crowd without knocking anyone over. Once he's into some space he jogs the rest of the way before entering, looking up to thank the guy who waited but the words get stuck in his throat.

Cristiano Ronaldo peers down at him and arches an eyebrow. "Going up?" he drawls, as the doors shut with a ding. He gestures to the buttons on the side, and Neymar can already see that the 12th floor is lit up. It makes sense considering they both usually deal with the same sort of people.

"Um, the 12th too," Neymar mumbles, readjusting his cap nervously. "Thanks," he adds as an afterthought, not really wanting to seem rude, especially since Cristiano did actually hold the elevator for him. Although, he's already feeling awkward next to Cristiano... as always. 

Cristiano smiles though, pleasantly. "No problem," he says smoothly, pulling out his phone as they start going up. He looks down at it quickly, checking something and then looks at his watch. He opens his mouth to say something but then takes a good look at Neymar and laughs. "You look--," he says, but can't finish and then laughs again.

Neymar scowls. "Oh I'm so sorry I'm not up to your standards, jackass," he says angrily, turning away and rolling his eyes. For just one second he forgot who he was dealing with and shakes his head. His cheeks flame in embarrassment and he pulls out his own phone to text Dani and rant about how Cristiano's wearing hot pink shorts and how he has no room to judge Neymar's fashion sense. His phone is still searching for a signal when Cristiano laughs again.

"No, no, Neymar," he says, still smiling. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms comfortably, and points at Neymar's shirt. "It's just, his face." 

Neymar looks down at his shirt and realizes it's one with Davi pursing his lips and puffing his cheeks as he tries to imitate a goldfish. It's actually one of Neymar's favorite pictures of his son and he remembers his glee when he finally got it printed on a tshirt. He looks back up at Cristiano, questioningly. If Cristiano insults his son, Neymar is honest to God going to slam his pretty face into the wall.

"It's funny, that's all," Cristiano says, grinning. "He's an adorable little thing."

And Neymar feels a warm glow settle in his chest, the same feeling he gets when he cuddles with Davi or kisses him or talks to him. He can't help the smile that comes to his face, that proud look any parent gets when somebody praises their child. "Oh, thanks," he says timidly, immediately feeling like a jerk since he had assumed Cristiano was making fun of him. "Umm," he says, trying to figure out what else to say.

Cristiano looks at Neymar consideringly. Neymar assumes he passes whatever test Cristiano gives him, since then he turns his phone so Neymar can see the back. "Not quite the same," he says, as Neymar looks at the smiling little boy decorating the case, "but Junior's very shy."

Neymar's about to say how cute he is, because he is freaking adorable actually, but all of a sudden the elevator lurches to a stop. He staggers, putting a hand against the wall and grabbing the handrail as the lights go out entirely and then an emergency light flickers to life. "What the fuck?" 

Cristiano pushes the emergency button and then the intercom, but there isn't any response. "Shit," he mutters, holding his phone up and then angrily shaking it as if that's going to help. "I don't have any service, do you?" he says, looking over at Neymar in the now dimly lit elevator.

Neymar forces himself to let go of the wall, his heart trying to beat through his chest. He holds his phone up, hands trembling, and shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, taking a few deep breaths. "What--what should we do?" He continues to hold his phone up above his head, hoping he'll get just one bar.

Cristiano slides down to sit on the floor, looking at it disdainfully before shrugging. "Wait, I guess. They'll fix it eventually." He aimlessly turns his phone over in his hands, gaze going over to Neymar. "You may as well sit," he says, stretching his long legs out in front of him and once again drawing Neymar's attention to the hot pink shorts.

Neymar forces his eyes away from Cristiano's legs (because in Cristiano's defense, he's wearing a plain white tshirt with the hot pink, and actually looks really good...) and slides down his own wall so he's sitting almost directly across from the other man. "Um," Neymar says, plucking his shirt away from his chest. "Is it getting hot in here?" he asks, feeling a bit warm. 

He hopes it's not just his body reacting to Cristiano's because that would be really awkward.

Cristiano nods though, mirroring Neymar's actions and drawing his shirt away from his chest. "Actually, now that you mention it," he says, looking up at the vents. "I think the air shut off." He pulls his shirt up to wipe his face where he's started to sweat. After a moment, he mutters, "Fuck it," and draws the entire thing over his head. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, looking at Neymar questioningly, combing his fingers through his hair to fix it.

Neymar's words get stuck in his throat as he stares at Cristiano's golden skin. "Uh, no," he says, coughing. "Good idea, actually," he says, pulling his own shirt off and setting it next to him. He takes his cap off too and sets it on his shirt, before running his fingers through his hair and trying to fluff it up a bit, though by now he has hat head and there's nothing he can really do about that.

They sit in silence for a few minutes after that, Neymar not really knowing what to say and Cristiano turning his attention to his phone as if it might regain service any second.

"So, how's Leo?" Cristiano finally asks, putting his phone away and speaking, startlingly Neymar a bit.

Neymar looks over, confused, but willing to answer. It's an odd choice for small talk, but he guesses they don't really have that many people in common. "He's fine, as far as I know," he says, scratching his arm. "I haven't talked to him in a few days, so I'm not sure what he's up to... Why?" he asks.

Cristiano arches an eyebrow. "Oh really? I thought you two were..." He raises his hand and makes an obscene gesture, grinning as Neymar flushes.

Neymar stutters, feeling his cheeks heat up and hoping Cristiano won't notice. "What?! No, of course not," he says, pulse racing. "Leo's straight," he says, shaking his head. And the second the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back. Because obviously, the most normal response would have been for Neymar to say that *he* was straight. "Um, I mean," he says, flustered, panicking that this is going to end up in the papers somehow, regretting actually even having a conversation with Cristiano...

Cristiano laughs, but it's not a cruel sound. "Relax," he says, nudging Neymar's foot with his own. He tilts his head to the side and looks at Neymar appraisingly. It's the same kind of look he gave Neymar before showing Neymar the phone case. And Neymar must pass again. "I'm not in any position to judge... if you know what I mean."

Neymar freezes. "Oh," he says, all of a sudden feeling a lot better about everything. There are always rumors about certain players, and Neymar's heard some about Cristiano of course, but Neymar's never believed any of them.

Cristiano smiles, nudging Neymar's foot again. "Yes, oh," he says in response. His hands come up to interlock behind his head and he closes his eyes. "Now that we've got that sorted... What makes you think Leo's straight?"

Neymar blinks slowly, forcing his eyes away from Cristiano's biceps as the question sinks in. "He's not?" Neymar leans forward. "What?!" He bits his lip. "How do you know?" he asks, thinking through every conversation he ever had with Leo.

Cristiano opens his eyes. "How do you think?" he says, smirking as Neymar's mouth drops open in shock.

Neymar shakes his head. "I don't believe you." He doesn't. He really doesn't. Leo? His Leo? With Cristiano? He shakes his head again and laughs. "You're joking."

Cristiano shrugs. "I don't care if you believe me." He cocks his head to the side. "I'd call him right now to prove it, if I could though, just to see the look on your face..." He pulls out his phone to check if his service is back and shakes his head. But then he pauses, phone still in hand, and his eyes light up. His gaze travels over to Neymar. "Actually... I have... an interesting picture of the two of us," he says, smirking, "if you want to see it?"

Neymar swallows nervously. "What--what kind of picture?" he asks, heart beginning to race again, because Cristiano can't possibly mean what Neymar thinks he means. Leo would never take a picture like that.

Cristiano crooks a finger at him. "Come here and I'll show you," he says quietly. "Nobody's ever seen it, but you can keep a secret, can't you?" He licks his lips, smirk still firmly in place. He waves his phone in the air slowly from side to side before shrugging. "But if you don't want to see..." he says, raising his eyebrows and moving to put the phone down when Neymar doesn't move.

But Neymar does want to see.

His palms are sweating as he slowly crawls over to Cristiano, sliding a little on the floor, moving them one after another until he's kneeling near the other man. And it's so hot, trapped in the elevator, the two of them right next to each other. Neymar can feel Cristiano's body heat, trying to ignore those long legs stretched out next to him, trying to ignore the knowing look the other man is giving him. 

"Here," Cristiano whispers, patting next to the wall, wanting Neymar to sit right next to him. As if Neymar needs to be closer, this needs to be a secret, even though there's only the two of them there. Cristiano's dark eyes are brimming with amusement as Neymar obeys, settling at his side, until the two of them are separated by only an inch.

And Neymar's palms are itching to grab the phone from Cristiano's grasp, wanting to see, desperately trying to distract himself from Cristiano's glistening chest--his abs, his biceps, his gorgeous skin... But he forces his eyes to meet Cristiano's. "Well?" he says, proud of himself when his voice comes out calm and collected.

Cristiano doesn't reply to that, but he hands the phone to Neymar, putting his hand on Neymar's thigh and leaning into him so they can both see the picture at the same time. "Believe me now?" he asks, turning to graze his lips against Neymar's ear. 

Neymar shivers as Cristiano's breath ghosts over his skin, but his eyes remained glued to the photo in his hand. He swallows hard, barely able to believe what he's seeing. "Should I tell you about it?" Neymar hears Cristiano ask. But his head is swimming, thigh burning where Cristiano's hand is resting. And Neymar wants to shake his head, wants to say he doesn't want to hear... 

But it would be a lie.

Cristiano laughs. "Should I tell you how eager he was? How he couldn't wait to get on his knees?" He raises a finger to the screen and traces over the closeup of Leo's face. They both stare at Leo's messy dark hair sticking to his forehead, taking in the glazed eyes, flushed cheeks, shiny mouth. "How he moaned when I pressed my cock between his lips? Those pink, pouty lips." Cristiano smiles at the memory, pointing to where Leo's lips are stretched around his cock, the photo taken just as he was sucking ravenously. 

"He wanted it," Cristiano breathes, "wanted me to fuck his mouth and spill down his throat." 

Neymar can't move, can't breathe, panting desperately as Cristiano talks, eyes unable to look away from the picture, unable to do anything. He's jealous of everything--of Leo, of Cristiano--regretting everything, wishing he didn't get on the elevator, wishing he never crawled over here. His cock is hard in his briefs and his thin shorts, reacting to both the picture and Cristiano. 

And Cristiano knows, has to know, isn't moving away, won't stop talking.

"You know how he is, how quiet, how shy," Cristiano says, lips brushing Neymar's ear. "But he wasn't about this, oh no, he moaned like a whore... And his mouth!" Cristiano groans into Neymar's ear. "So hot, so *wet*." 

And with that, Cristiano licks a stripe up Neymar's neck.

Neymar jerks, feeling pleasure shoot through his body, dropping the phone onto his lap. His hands are clumsy as he tries to pick it up again, but he can't, he's shaking, badly rattled, beyond aroused, heart racing as he tries to understand what's actually happening. "I--you--I," he stutters, wide eyes turning to look at Cristiano.

Cristiano laughs, nosing at Neymar's neck while he moves the hand on Neymar's thigh and reaches for the phone. His fingers deliberately rub against the bulge of Neymar's cock as he retrieves the phone, turning it off and and tossing it to join his shirt. The hand returns to Neymar's leg, squeezing.

Neymar gasps, spreading his legs without meaning to, hard and aching, wanting Cristiano to touch him again. The other man's thigh is pressed up against his, and they're both sweating in earnest now, slick skin sticking together. "Please," Neymar begs, not even knowing what he wants, or how this happened, just knowing that he needs to be touched.

And it seems like that was all Cristiano was waiting for, because suddenly his arm slides around Neymar's neck, hand threading though Neymar's hair and tugging his head back. The other hand moves to cup Neymar through his shorts, massaging and fondling, touching Neymar in just the right way. "Do you want me?" Cristiano asks teasingly, hand hot between Neymar's legs, while the other pulls on Neymar's hair.

Neymar can only tilt his head back eagerly, mouth falling open and panting, trying to arch into Cristiano's hands. He can feel sweat dripping down his forehead, down his back, soaking his waistband. He wants to take everything off, wants Cristiano to strip him bare, wants anything and everything. "Please," he says again, knowing he's whining, sparing a thought that this is what it must have been like for Leo--helpless against Cristiano's touch.

Cristiano is smiling, won't stop smiling, baring his teeth deviously as he orders Neymar to lose the shorts. The hand remains tight in Neymar's hair, Cristiano admiring the stretch of Neymar's neck, eyes lingering on the tattoos. "Quickly," he says, when Neymar remains wide eyed and frozen.

Neymar instantly squirms out of his clothes, carelessly throwing them across the elevator to where his shirt is, material fluttering in the air. He should care that he's completely naked in the elevator, ass sliding over a dirty floor, should be worrying that the power could come back at any moment, but he's not. He can't think about anything other than Cristiano. 

Cristiano's eyes lazily trail over Neymar's body, fingers moving to pluck at a nipple. It's pebbled, furled tightly against Neymar's chest, and he rubs it back and forth, pinching and twisting. He's grinning as Neymar writhes under his hands and spreads his thighs wider. He licks his lips, watching as Neymar's cock, red and angry, bounces against Neymar's stomach. His hand moves there finally, thumb smoothing over the head, delighting in Neymar's moans.

Neymar wants to ask if Cristiano's going to take off the pink shorts. He wants to ask if Cristiano wants him on his hands and knees. He'll suck Cristiano off, he'll definitely do it. His mouth is watering just thinking about it, hands twitching at his sides, ass sliding all over the elevator floor as he tries to meet Cristiano's hand.

But Cristiano presses his fingers against Neymar's lips, pushing inside Neymar's mouth. "That's it," he murmurs, as Neymar curls his tongue around the digits. "Do you taste yourself?" he asks, pulling his fingers out and rubbing them together so his hand becomes slippery. He reaches down to Neymar's cock again and starts jerking him off in earnest. 

Neymar can't answer. His head is still held in place, back against the elevator wall, but he reaches out and tries to cling to Cristiano's shoulders as the other man begins to pump him vigorously. "I--I--," he gasps, hands sliding over Cristiano's slick skin, trying to get a grip. He finally loops his arms around Cristiano's neck to hold on. 

He so hot he can't think, can't breathe, the air thick with sweat and musk.

Cristiano dips his head, running his lips down the side of Neymar's neck. He shifts suddenly, hand letting go of Neymar's hair to move to Neymar's waist and heave him onto his lap so Neymar's sitting sideways. "So is this how they get you to shut up?" he asks, smirking, sucking a bruise into Neymar's skin, leaving his mark where Neymar's neck meets his shoulder. His hand continues to move over Neymar's cock.

Neymar digs his nails into Cristiano's neck, reveling as the other man hisses. "Fuck you," he gets out, gritting his teeth as Cristiano's hand speeds up. He's whimpering now, trying to spread his legs even wider, unsure where his skin starts and Cristiano's begins. He wants Cristiano's fingers to drift lower, wants a hand to raise his thigh, wants something thick to thrust inside him.

Cristiano laughs, biting at Neymar's earlobe and then sucking it between his lips. "That's what they all say," he murmurs, tightening his hand and twisting *just so*.

And Neymar can't hold out any longer. He pants, spilling all over Cristiano's hand. The other man laughs, pumping him and watching as white stripes streak over Cristiano's stomach. Neymar's head lolls against Cristiano's shoulder, limbs shaking and weakening, chest heaving as he comes down. 

But he doesn't have much time to rest. 

Because at that moment the elevator springs to life.

"Fuck!" Neymar says, scrambling from Cristiano's lap over to the other side of the elevator where his clothes are. He's still trembling and trying to catch his breath, sliding across the floor as quickly as possible. He can't find his briefs and is frantically pulling his shorts on when he realizes Cristiano hasn't moved.

In fact, Cristiano remains seated on the floor, raising his hand to his mouth and leisurely begins to clean his hand. His eyes darken as they travel over Neymar's flailing form, the clothes sticking to his sweaty skin and he smirks once again. Just before the elevator arrives at the 12th floor he grabs his shirt and wipes any lingering mess off his stomach.

As the doors slide open with a ding, Cristiano smoothly gets to his feet, phone tucked into his pocket while his dirty shirt gets turned inside out and held in front of himself. "About time," Cristiano says arrogantly to the small group of suits fluttering anxiously outside. He steps outside, daring anyone to comment on his appearance. A few women are fanning themselves unconsciously, licking their lips as they take in his chiseled figure, glistening with sweat. 

Neymar follows him hesitantly, hat back on his head and shirt slung over his shoulder. He's utterly aware of the fact that he never found his briefs and is terribly afraid someone is going to look down and see them. But everybody swarms around Cristiano and the doors slide shut behind them as they begin to walk down the hall.

"We almost passed out in there," Cristiano is saying to someone who is apologizing profusely. He gestures back towards Neymar and the suits move towards him as if just realizing Cristiano was not alone. When Neymar wades through all of them, Cristiano is gone--off to whatever meeting he was late for. 

Neymar frowns, ignoring the clamor around him for a second, feeling disappointed. He jolts back to the present, accepting both a towel and a bottle of water that have mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, and then continues on to his own meeting. But that feeling of disappointment lasts all day until he gets a few texts from Leo.

**D10S:** Cristiano wants your number for some reason, should I give it to him?  
**D10S:** he just sent me a picture of what he says is your underwear?  
**D10S:** he said he's gonna need a better picture?  
**D10S:** Ney?? what does this mean?!


End file.
